This is my favourite Whitsunday blue. It reminds me of the sequinned tutu I wore at my first ballet recital. Looking back, it seems odd that a six-year-old chubby kid could become a butterfly. But when I slipped into those gauzy sequinned wings I inherited the grace of a flying creature. That’s how the Whitsundays makes me feel: joyous and light. Photo by @laurenepbath.

Colours have always had the ability to make my soul sing. And Langford Island wrapped me up in a crescendo of contrasts. Nothing goes better with Whitsundays’ blue than squeaky white Queensland sand and a sky full of Capri sunshine. Take me back! Photo by @laurenepbath.

Blue gets a bad rap. For too long it’s been linked to the heaviness of the Monday morning alarm. Why is that? On Daydream Island, blue is tranquil. It’s calming. And it whispers loudly that it’s time for the world to just slow down and breathe. Deeply, please. Photo by @jewelszee.

Sometimes the world wants to be blue. Sometimes it wants to be white. When the elements clash, the corrugation of nature’s colours are better than a visit to the Guggenheim. Photo by @william_patino.

Australians are big sky people. Our eyes look up, taking with them our hearts and our humour. The Queensland sky may be miles away, but these palms remind us to keep grounded. Photo by @laurenepbath.

Sunset at Hydeaway Bay, 45 minutes north of Airlie Beach, brings a Cerulean drama to paradise proving that even the calmest of holiday getaways can be alive with energy. Photo by @garry_norris.

Blue is a long-distance runner. Even when it knows it’s time to shut down for the day, blue clings on. It takes hold of our world and stays with us as long as possible. Blue infects us with more time. Photo by @jewelszee.

Whitsundays’ blue is like no other colour on earth [gallery]

When I was little I wanted to be an artist. I wanted to have a palette of colour and a blank canvas so I could slap down emotions in rich patinas that would last forever. I wanted to shout happiness using orange and yellow, and I wanted to shush the world with angry daubs of grey.

Blue was never a colour I really liked… until my first trip to the Whitsundays when it wrapped my soul in a soaring colour wheel of cyans, Pacific teals and bruised evening hues. It’s not bad having the blues when they look like this.

This is my favourite Whitsunday blue. It reminds me of the sequinned tutu I wore at my first ballet recital. Looking back, it seems odd that a six-year-old chubby kid could become a butterfly. But when I slipped into those gauzy sequinned wings I inherited the grace of a flying creature. That’s how the Whitsundays makes me feel: joyous and light. Photo by @laurenepbath.

Colours have always had the ability to make my soul sing. And Langford Island wrapped me up in a crescendo of contrasts. Nothing goes better with Whitsundays’ blue than squeaky white Queensland sand and a sky full of Capri sunshine. Take me back! Photo by @laurenepbath.

Blue gets a bad rap. For too long it’s been linked to the heaviness of the Monday morning alarm. Why is that? On Daydream Island, blue is tranquil. It’s calming. And it whispers loudly that it’s time for the world to just slow down and breathe. Deeply, please. Photo by @jewelszee.

Sometimes the world wants to be blue. Sometimes it wants to be white. When the elements clash, the corrugation of nature’s colours are better than a visit to the Guggenheim. Photo by @william_patino.

Australians are big sky people. Our eyes look up, taking with them our hearts and our humour. The Queensland sky may be miles away, but these palms remind us to keep grounded. Photo by @laurenepbath.

Sunset at Hydeaway Bay, 45 minutes north of Airlie Beach, brings a Cerulean drama to paradise proving that even the calmest of holiday getaways can be alive with energy. Photo by @garry_norris.

Blue is a long-distance runner. Even when it knows it’s time to shut down for the day, blue clings on. It takes hold of our world and stays with us as long as possible. Blue infects us with more time. Photo by @jewelszee.

How many blues are in your life?

Author

Armed with the fundamental phrase “where is the toilet?” Shelley Winkel began her travelling life as a high school exchange student to Tokushima, Japan, a country town hailed for its dance of the dead and piquant limes. Since then she has lived and worked in four continents, slowly moving up the travel chain from backpacker to flashbacker and beyond. Today, Shelley still loves to jump on the plane and explore; but it’s increasingly with an eye on finding five stars and two hats.